Fiction or Fraction?

I took a “inspire me” this morning from wordpress. It asked about a heart pounding time in your life. I wanted to share this fractured memory for the girls who know. And a prayer for those who will never, to stay that way.

The pounding was not stopping. At first I thought it was only in my head. The club came back to me in a sour tasting upward wrench from my stomach. No, someone wants in,who the hell tries to break down a door at 7:30 in the morning. Donna forgot her fucking key….again. Working opposite schedules with a roommate is fantastic and frustrating. “I am coming, chill out” Shit, where are my pants. Fumbling down the stairs, half dressed. I don’t remember opening the door, but I did. I completely expected an apology and a rush back in the house to get whatever she forgot.


I did not expect him. His eyes were strange, hyper focused. I could not look away. He was talking so fast I did not notice that the door was being shut behind him. What, who…he was dressed nice, did I meet him last night. He is talking about, what? He stopped, I tried to speak but I was so cloudy from last nights adventures. “Who are….” He asked for a beer, a beer at 7:30 in the morning. My heart-pounding was rising into my ears. I stood immobile, what had I done? Who is this guy. Why is he in my house. Over and over I kept asking. He is staring at me. Ok, get the beer, he seems nice, get the beer then make your way to the door while he is drinking….maybe he just wants a beer. When he took the beer he stood up and started upstairs. He reached back and grabbed my hand. Finally I got the courage “Who the Fuck are you …and..” Before another word was spoken, he smiled put down the beer and reached into his pocket. The blade popped up when he touched it. He leaned in and said “Remember you owe me one, you are such a tease”.


Survivor mode is easy for me . My childhood brought me to this moment. I could not run so I just went into my own head and quietly shut down, it came easily. The blood rushing in my ears was so loud . My body was freezing cold and stiff. I lay down as instructed, the bed was unmade. I could not hear all the words he seemed to be saying .Aids was just getting revved up and the scars and pustules on his back terrified me more than the penetration, Please God, I hope he used a condom. He finally finished, stood up and put his pants back on. My pillow was wet, I felt the cold on my face, the ac was running on high. I was so sore, my whole body hurt. My breathing never changed. I focused on my breathing, I did not want to upset him. The knife never left his hand. Did he actually just said “thank you” ?.


The door slammed shut, my chest started pounding harder, the convulsions started. The roaring ripping me in half, pain, I heard a scream, me, this, no. Anger has always been my friend and constant companion. I was raised with Hells Angels and Irish bulldogs. I knew how to defend myself. Fuck this I will call the cops…. But I let him in, I gave him a beer, I had the reputation, and the mollies in my purse. Had I told him to come over for this? He wasn’t my first one off. But no, there was a knife Goddamn it. No, I could never tell anyone, being wild is one thing but being labeled a whore by the police is another.


I saw him again a few months later, on TV. It made me proud to know there were women stronger than me in the world.



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